


The Crossover Nobody Asked For (VenturianTale and Milo Murphy’s Law)

by ObsidianCreates



Category: Milo Murphy's Law, VenturianTale, VenturianTale Characters (Web Series)
Genre: Don't worry it's not intense it's just kinda like Dakota is a little drunk, Had this idea ever since I heard that Cav and Dakota work for P.I.G XD, IDK I just wanted to write a crossover, It's mostly goofy lol, Just a little hint of Dakavendish at the end. As a treat., Macaroni is technically a drug in the VT universe so um yeah that factors in, Minor intoxication, References to Drugs, VenturianTale is my oldest fixation so of course I wrote a crossover with my newest one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:00:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26890306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianCreates/pseuds/ObsidianCreates
Summary: Dakota and Cavendish are sent to investigate a possible alien happenstance in a small town in North Carolina. Things go a bit awry as the locals prove themselves to be... rather eccentric people.
Relationships: Balthazar Cavendish & Vinnie Dakota, Balthazar Cavendish/Vinnie Dakota
Comments: 9
Kudos: 4





	The Crossover Nobody Asked For (VenturianTale and Milo Murphy’s Law)

“Oh, this place is horrid,” Cavendish says, looking out the window as the van rolls into town. “This is _barely_ an upgrade from garbage duty.”

“So there’s a lot of damage. Maybe they’ve just a Murphy in town and no budget,” Dakota says with a shrug.

“... I suppose that’s a possibility. But I don’t believe Milo has mentioned any family living in North Carolina. Especially not a place with a name like... ugh.”

“Come on, say it,” Dakota says, already almost laughing.

“... Butts, Little Butts,” Cavendish sighs.

Dakota laughs, slapping the steering wheel.

“Who even named this place?! And who would _live_ here-”

“WHOA!”

Dakota slams on the breaks as someone runs right out in front of the van. 

“It went this way! Come _on,_ Johnny!” a short man in a gray hoodie shouts behind him.

A tall man in a rather fancy outfit jogs into view. “I’m coming, sir! But I-I’ve been _stabbed_ in the _leg-”_

“IT’S GETTING AWAY- oh, you!”

The short man runs up to the window of Cavendish and Dakota’s van. “Hey! Give us your vehicle!”

Cavendish is slightly taken aback. “Wh- we most certainly shall not!”

“Oh, he’s British! Johnny, come communicate with him in your British tongue!”

“What the devil-”

“Hello, there. I’m Johnny Toast. May we _please_ use you vehicle?”

“More British, Johnny.”

“Oh, right sir, um, tea and crumpets, may we use your vehicle, um, Doctor Who, ah, my grandmother is the Queen of England.”

“... Just drive, Dakota.”

Dakota waves at the two men, and drives away. They hear the short one scream in frustration.

“This town is deplorable,” Cavendish says.

“We’ve only met two people, maybe it’s not so bad,” Dakota points out. “And we haven’t even been to any restaurants yet.”

“Given the state of some of these buildings, I advise _against_ eating anything from here.”

“When has that ever stopped me?” 

“Mmm, true.”

They finally arrive at their destination. A shockingly normal looking house, out in the suburbs. 

“Well, perhaps this won’t be so bad after all.” Cavendish seems hopeful as the van is parked.

“Yeah, see? We just happened to run across two weirdos. Now let’s find that alien signal Mr. Block sent us here for.”

“I’ll grab the scanner, you introduce us,” Cavendish says, opening the back of the van. 

Dakota nod sand heads up to the front door. He rings the doorbell, and waits.

“GERTRUDE! SOMEONE’S AT THE DOOR!”

“I HEARD IT, I’M MAKIN’ DINNER!”

“KIDS!”

Dakota winces. Oh boy, so the people who live here are... _loud,_ to say the least.

“WHERE’RE THE KIDS, GERTRUDE?”

“BILLY IS HIDING FROM MADDIE AND SALLY IS ON A DATE WITH SLENDER! SUE IS SOMEWHERE IN THE MALL!”

Dakota waits a moment, and then rings again.

He hears a heavy sigh. A moment later, the door swings open, and Dakota shouts and stumbles back.

A large man stands in the door, holding a shotgun. With his bald head, beard, and _very_ angry expression, he looks like exactly the type of person you _don’t_ want to bother in the middle of the day. 

“Who the heck ‘re you?” he demands in... some kind of... southern? accent.

“Uh...”

“Dakota, have you- oh, hello, are you the resident who lives here?”

Cavendish is either ignoring the shotgun, or hasn’t noticed it yet, somehow.

“Yeah, this is my house, so what’re you doing here?”

“Well, we’ve been sent by an agency-”

“Are you some more of them P.I.E people? I told ya to quit comin’ to my house, you only make the problems worse!”

“P.I.E? No, we’re with an agency called _P.I.G-”_

“Paranormal Investigators Gourmet?! I don’t remember hirin’ you!”

“... Gourmet- no! No, we’re with the Paranormal Investigation _Group-”_

“How many ghost huntin’ groups are there?!” the man shouts, _presumably_ in frustration, though a slight bit of laugh slips into his voice.

“... We deal with aliens,” Cavendish says, unsure what else to say.

“Aliens? I KNEW IT! GERTRUDE, I TOLD YA! I TOLD YA THAT THING WAS FROM THEM ALIENS!”

“GOOD JOB, HONEY, YOU DID IT!”

“YEAH! I DID IT, I DID IT!Aw, you can come right on in, provin’ me right. You’re a lot less annoyin’ than the P.I.E people, they’re always _talkin’_ and sayin’ I’m _wrong_ and not to _shoot the ghosts,_ but they shoot ghosts too so I don’t know what they’re talkin’ about-”

“He’s just talking to himself now,” Dakota whispers to Cav as they follow the man into the house.

Cavendish nods. Maybe this _won’t_ go as well as he’d hoped... He clears his throat. “May we ask for you name, my good man?”

The man stops, and turns around. “My name! Is PAPA ACACHALLA!”

Dakota snorts.

“Why’re you laughin? That’s my name! It’s a great name! Means ‘whole dang universe’!”

“No, no, it’s just I never thought we’d find a more made-up sounding name than his,” Dakota says, pointing his thumb at Cavendish. 

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Well, what’s his name?” Acachalla demands, pointing at Cavendish with the shotgun _way too casually._

Dakota pushes the barrel of the gun away. “Go ahead, Cav.”

Cav crosses his arms. “Balthazar Cavendish.”

"HA! You British people have the weirdest names! Like that Toast boy! Anyway, the alien thing is out here. Officer Maloney came to look at it, but it isn’t one of his things, and I can’t figure out how to move it! I’ve tried C4, a tractor, Freddie, a nuke-”

“A _nuke?!”_

“- an’ none of it even dented the thing!”

“Yeah, can we go back to _nuke?”_ Dakota says, eyes wide.

“Too late, we’re here.”

Dakota and Cavendish blink.

Cavendish’s eye twitches “It’s a-”

“It’s a giant metal Kirby,” Dakota finishes. 

“Yeah! I don’t want it in my yard! My daughter says it feels like it’s mockin’ her from when _she_ was a Kirby!”

“What in blazes are you- this is no alien technology! This is some kind of... bad sculpture!” Cavendish shouts.

“It dropped right out of the sky!” Acachalla protests. “Maloney said it was alien, and he would know! He’s a bird!”

“A bir- you said he was a _police officer!”_

“He is! _And_ he’s a bird! Who can be a person!”

Cavendish is _fuming._ “Dakota, call Mr. Block and tell him we’ve been lead on a wild goose chase!”

Dakota sighs, and heads inside to make the call (for some reason, he can’t get a signal from the yard).

“There’s no wild goose around here! Not after that nuke test, anyway!”

“There’s no _possible_ way you set off a _nuke_ here! This house is still intact, _you’re still alive,_ and there’s no residual radiation in the area!”

“So?”

“SO?! SO THERE WAS NO NUCLEAR EXPLOSION!”

“I don’t think you know how nukes work!”

“YOU-”

“Cav, calm down, _he’s holding a gun,”_ Dakota says in a hissed whisper.

Cavendish takes a deep breath, and collects himself. “Clearly, Mr. Acachalla-”

“ _Papa_ Acachalla. My title is _Papa.”_

“I _steadfastly_ refuse to refer to you as ‘Papa’. Mr. Acachalla, there’s been some sort of mix-up, and this is _not_ alien in-”

The mouth of the Kirby opens, and a being steps out.

“Excuse me, but our craft was broken, and we just got the doors working,” says the being (that looks... _weirdly_ like a... Pokemon?). 

“I KNEW IT!” Acachalla shouts. He shoots his gun up into the air, and starts ‘dancing’ (to use the term loosely). “I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT, PAPA ACACHALLA, I KNEW IT-”

Cavendish stares, dumbfounded. “You- you’re _actually_ an alien?”

The alien nods. “Yup, I am!”

“... You sound remarkably human.”

“Thanks! So do you!”

“... Thank you?”

“Do you happen to know where we can get some materials to repair our ship?”

“Well, I suppose I might. What do you need?”

“Macaroni.”

“... _What-”_

“Hey, we’ve got that!” Acachalla says, stopping his little song and dance. “Just don’t tell the cops. It’s Johnny Toast brand, too, really strong stuff.”

“... Why would macaroni need to be hidden from the cops?” Cavendish asks weakly, shoulders slumped. This is _ridiculous,_ and he feels... defeated, in a way.

“Uh, ‘cause it’s _illegal?”_ Acachalla says with a laugh. “Duh?”

Acachalla leads the alien inside, and-

“WHY’RE YOU EATIN’ OUR MACARONI?!”

Dakota looks up from his bowl. “Uh, your wife offered me some-”

“GERTRUDE, WHAT’RE YOU THINKIN’?! THAT’S OUR GOOD MACARONI!”

A woman in a green sweater peeks out from the kitchen. “Well, he said he was hungry, and it was either this or your old boot!”

“That boot is high in protein!”

“That’s why I’m savin’ it for the kids!”

Dakota puts down his fork. “I think your macaroni went bad, actually, I don’t feel so good...”

Acachalla rolls his eyes. “Duh, you don’t! Have you ever even had macaroni before?!”

Dakota looks up. “Somethin’s weird here...” he slurs.

“Wh- what have you done to him?!” Cavendish pushes Acachalla aside and rushes to Dakota.

“It’s macaroni! It makes the world all wiggly and weird!” Acachalla says, like that’s _at all_ true and common knowledge.

Dakota laughs a little, reaching up to grab Cavendish’s hat. “You’re _way_ taller th’n I remember,” he says, still slurring.

“That is it! We are _leaving!”_

Cavendish picks Dakota up bridal-style. Dakota grins, and leans up, giving Cavendish a peck on the lips. “Wow, I can stretch _really_ far...”

Cavendish blushes intensely. “That macaroni has clearly intoxicated my partner! You’ll be hearing from the higher-ups over this!” he says, trying to ignore what just happened.

“I think ‘m flying,” Dakota declares as Cavendish carries him back out to the van.

“Dakota, you’re delirious. Just rest until we get home.”

“I feel fine,” Dakota insists, head lolling. “You’re the one who turned into a tomato when I kissed you. From a leek to a tomato...”

“A leek? Is that because of my suit?”

“You’re a-a leek with fluffy wings.”

Cavendish buckles Dakota in. “What on Earth-”

“Like a vegetable angel.”

Cavendish blushes again. “This is terrible. you have no idea what you’re saying,” he says, trying to affirm that fact in his mind.

“You’re a tomato again. Whoa, my hand is made of _fresh fries...”_

“No, they’re just yellow because they’re covered in cheese.”

Dakota grins. “Smarty-pants.”

As Cavendish goes to shut the door, Dakota grabs him again and gives him another kiss. A long one. Cavendish is in shock. 

“You don’t taste like a leek,” Dakota says afterwards, apparently incredibly happy about that fact.

Cavendish, blushing more than he thought was possible, gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car. “We’re _never_ returning here,” he mutters to himself.

Dakota waves at the house as they drive away.


End file.
